Observations on Compromise
by Quaxicoffelees
Summary: A light bulb went off as the gravity of the situation hit him in a flash epiphany. There was no turning back. Master/Doctor, Implied Koschei/Theta


**1317 words to make up for my lack in Alice and Kingdom Hearts. The commemorating disclaimers apply: of course I don't own Doctor Who. I haven't even been alive that long. But I did sneak off a few characters for the sake of entertaining my imagination. And here is the end result of sugar and those marshmallow critters you eat at Easter.**

oOoOoOo

oOo

oOoOoOo

"_It's your own fault, you know," he muttered._

"_Ushas wasn't supposed to be there!"_

"_You know pranking her wasn't a good idea, Koschei."_

"_Come on Thete, you thought it would be funny. That's why you were standing guard - "_

"_I didn't see her! She took the back way!" Theta whined, feeling rather guilty at his friends sarcastic tone._

"_It's always the women," Koschei laughed. Theta smiled - he was forgiven._

"_You can't have died anyway," the Time Lord in training pointed out, scooting closer to the invalid lying in bed._

"_Oh?"_

"_No. If you died it would have to be cheesy and romantic." Koschei smirked._

"_Really now? And what's in it for me? I want to die with dignity!" he teased. "Are you positive that's how it all ends?"_

"_I know you better than anyone on Gallifrey - you wouldn't mind it so much." Theta carefully entwined his hand in Koschei's unbroken one. The fall from Ushas' forth story window had surprisingly left little damage - only a completely broken arm._

"_How about that? Poor little Theta can't live without me. A bit pathetically __human__."_

"_I could too!" Theta shot back, turning pink. His hand, however, remained locked with Koschei's._

"_I bet you couldn't. You'd cry like a girl." "We'll see about that!" Theta hmphed, pouting. The other laughed, and soon they were both giggling together._

"_Don't worry. Forever and always, together. All across the stars," Koschei promised, placing a kiss on an unsuspecting smile._

oOoOoOo

oOo

oOoOoOo

"Martha, get me the laser!" the Doctor shouted, fumbling around his jacket pocket for his sonic screwdriver.

"What are you going to do?" she demanded, complying with his order and watching as he fidgeted with the device, opening it with the sonic and adjusting the wires.

"Lazarus technology - I'll force him into a minor regeneration by making him a few hours younger," the Doctor declared, aiming the laser at the dead Time Lord in his arms.

It worked - within seconds, the Master was breathing once more.

"Jack, the teleported!" The immortal stared, his eyes radiating betrayal and wariness. "Dammit Jack! Please?" The desperate pleading made the man pity the Doctor; reluctantly, slowly, he walked over and handed him the wrist band.

"You'd best come back," Jack threatened as the two disappeared.

oOoOoOo

oOo

oOoOoOo

"She's not coming back," the Master pointed out dully. He was currently leaning against a door to who-knew-where-in-the-Tardis, listlessly picking at his nails. Harold Saxon had pristine nails, and he intended to keep them that way. "Can we leave?"

"Quit nagging like a petulant child," the Doctor replied nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. "She'll come."

Right on cue, Ms. Martha Jones stepped through the doorway. The Doctor jumped up - only the Master noted the split-second falter in the Time Lord's bubbly grin.

A light bulb went off as the gravity of the situation hit him in a flash epiphany. There was no turning back. He'd be with the Doctor forever, just as he'd wanted, just as he'd wished. And that broken Time Lord, Theta - that was all he'd ever wanted, what he'd searched for in his journey's and companions.

The Master began to observe. He knew she was gone. They both knew it. But that wouldn't stop the Doctor. It was a bad habit, he realized. The Doctor always ignored the painfully obvious, always forced himself to blindly look the other way. Always covering things up, things he couldn't control.

They were both control freaks - that similarity had drawn them together. That freedom away from Gallifrey, that power of being able to handle the subspecies of the universe.

The Doctor was babbling. Meta Sigmafolio, Charles the Second, Henry the Eighth, Agatha Christie. That was a defense mechanism, Irving had once noted, that nonsensical prattling. Covering up what he didn't want to face, ignoring what he didn't want to see. Theta did that quite often, trying to persuade Borusa into another topic of conversation, instead of dealing with punishment for all the trouble they would get in to. He was a skillful orator: a silver-tongued snake.

But not this time.

"Okay." He stopped, the pause seemingly endless.

"I just can't," Martha pleaded, not wanting to hurt this marvelous man whom she'd grown to love.

"Yeah." The monosyllabic reply was rushed and awkward. He was uncomfortable now, always uncomfortable with goodbyes. No wonder he had companions with him. Theta could never stand to be alone - couldn't even sleep in a separate bed, if the Master remembered correctly. He smirked at the memory of waking up one morning to see the smaller boy curled next to him.

Martha glared, halfway through her explanation.

"I can't leave them," she ended, turning her attention back to the Doctor. Her family, and what they'd been through. Psychiatrists field day with that. Well, he wasn't laughing about his world rule. Precious Jones-y didn't have to get her knickers in a twist for that. He hadn't even really realized she was discussing all that. Sheesh, the assumptions of some people!

"You going to be alright?"

"Always, yeah." Again with the always. The Master tapped his foot, not in any particular pattern. He was bored. This whole scene was tedious.

Until she kissed him. Just a peck on the cheek, of course. But oh, the stricken look of guilt on his face, that dawn of horror as reality slapped him upside the head! Pricelessly heartbreaking.

She was gone.

"Well now that she broke up with you, can we get a move on? Let's go see Meta Sigma folio - you always liked the stars like oil on water and all that jazz."

"…yeah…" the Doctor murmured dejectedly, flipping a few switches and pressing random buttons as he moped around the console. There was silence, absolute dead silence. And finally, the Master came up with something clever. He stepped forward, one of those cheesy trademark Saxon grins plastered to his face.

"Cause the thing is, it's like my friend Vicky." He scowled as she walked back in. Rubbing salt on an open wound, making sure Captain Obvious got her message loud and clear. The Master rolled his eyes - stupid twit that Ms. Martha Jones was, ruining everything.

"Is this going anywhere?" the Doctor interrupted. There was a subtle, deadly hint of frustration and annoyance and anger.

Psychiatrist's voice echoed inside the Master's mind. Idiotic, condescending Irving, with his cold and automatic voice of steel. 'The lack of interest was another defense mechanism for the Doctor. Passive-aggressive behavior, employed to ignore what he didn't want to see, to hear, to notice.'

"So this is me, getting out."

Then LEAVE!, the Master wanted to scream at her.

"I'll see you again, Mister." He saw the Doctor smirk, putting the cell phone in his jacket pocket and surveying her exit.

"Meta Sigmafolio?" the Time Lord sighed, already pushing the pain of another lost companion away. Finally, the Master could continue with his carefully formulated plan.

He came up behind the Doctor, wrapping his arms around the petite frame, twirling the man around and kissing him. Not a simple Martha Jones peck, or the sensual TV Saxon smooch. This was the fleeting and passionate Koschei-to-Theta kiss.

It he were to spend the rest of eternity with the Doctor, then they'd have to make the best of it. The Time Lord could disillusion himself all he wanted, but the master would take anything he could get. This wouldn't be academy-days romance. This wouldn't be that cat and mouse enemy hatred. This wouldn't be the desperation for power and control. This would be compromise.

"Sigma," the Master whispered in agreement, pulling away and returning to his spot by the door to the unknown. And why this sudden change, the Doctor pondered casually as they traveled across time and space.

The drums had died with Harold Saxon. So a little giving in wasn't so bad. It was simply compromise.

oOoOoOo

oOo

oOoOoOo

**Right I'll admit my stories can sometimes be confusing. SO if you press that pretty review button, I can answer any questions you might have. AND OR! I'll give you a spiffy cookie shaped like the Tardis. That blue box that's bigger on the inside. Among other things.**

**xP**


End file.
